The Understanding
He didn’t have to say anything to wake me. I had already taken to not sleeping. He paced the length of the bed. He’d left twenty dollars for emergencies in his top dresser drawer. He had to go. I had to understand.
I’ll be back on Sunday or Monday, or soon.
You’ll be back soon, I repeated. You have to go now.
I was twelve, his firstborn, the eldest of four. I shivered under the quilt. I could understand — but I was dumb, wide-eyed, knowing only that mothers and fathers leave even though they say they don’t want to go.
Photo credit: xx
Love it! Great job!
Fantastic; home run!
Lovely lovely piece Caroline!
Wow, you pulled me RIGHT in with that and had me thinking all sorts of things! Wonderful!
The best way I know I’m reading a good 100 word story is when I lose track entirely of the limitation of words. That was absolutely the case here. There was no sense of stinginess or abbreviated thought. A very well-expressed piece!
Thank you so much for reading! It was an intense writing experience.